


Three times Dick kissed Wally and the one time Wally kissed him

by itsthebat



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), The Flash (Comics), Titans (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, So there you go, because im a disaster, its a mix between everything, its mostly fluff though, theres going to be character from titans and yj, theres gonna be angst, wally and dick are dorks in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-23 06:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14928647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsthebat/pseuds/itsthebat
Summary: The title says it all: three times Dick kissed Wally and the one time Wally kissed him back.





	1. Spin spin spin that bottle

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of an AU because the kids from Young Justice know the kids from Titans and vice-versa. I hope it's not too confusing—anyway, the important characters here are Wally and Dick so!!!

Wally feels like he’s going to be sick.

            “I am not going to kiss _Donna_ ,” Dick says, sticking his tongue out at Garth, who rolls his eyes.

            “Then what’s the point of playing this stupid game?” Garth retorts.

            “Oh my _gods_ ,” adds Donna.

            While Lilith giggles and Roy looks between Dick, Donna, and Garth as if they were playing tennis, Wally wants the floor to swallow him whole. When Donna proposed staying tonight at Dick’s place, since Bruce was away doing scary, creepy things, everyone agreed because it seemed like a good idea—when Roy said that he could bring alcohol, everyone cheered because they were sixteen-year-olds that couldn’t drink alcohol and, let’s be fair, they drank alcohol anyway. When Lilith suggested playing spin the bottle, everyone thought it was a good idea.

            Now… not so much.

            So far, Roy has kissed Garth; Lilith has kissed Donna and Garth; Donna has kissed Wally; Dick has kissed Roy. They’ve had no problem, partly because by the time Lilith proposed playing all of them had already had some beers. But Dick apparently has a problem with kissing Donna, and so does she.

            “Dude, she’s like my _sister_ ,” Dick says for the hundredth time. “Would you kiss your sister?”

            “If the game says so.” Garth realizes his mistake a little too late, when everyone is _iugh-ing_.

            Lilith hits him on the shoulder. “Oh god, I have that picture on my brain now.” She hits Garth again. “That’s so gross!”

            They keep arguing about whether Dick should kiss Donna or not, chattering and laughing from time to time, and even though Wally would like to join the conversation, he _can’t_. He’s totally sober—not because he wants to, but because the alcohol wouldn’t do a thing to him—and he’s been panicking internally since the game started because… what if he has to kiss Dick?

            All odds indicate that the game is going to end right now, but Wally can’t stop thinking—what if they keep playing? What if Dick spins the bottle and it points to Wally? What if Wally spins the bottle and it points to Dick? Wally doesn’t know what would be more mortifying, having to kiss Dick or Dick rejecting to kiss like he’s doing right now with Donna.

            “Guys and gays,” Roy says. Everyone turns no him—he’s smiling deliriously, and maybe he’s had too many beers. “You are all _dumbasses_.”

            He doesn’t say anything else, so everyone just stares at him, waiting for something more. Maybe Wally should snatch away the beer he’s drinking right now, but before he can do it Roy starts drinking. Not even Garth breathes. When he’s done, Roy throws the bottle somewhere behind him—Wally cringes at the sound of glass breaking.

            “Dude—” Donna begins.

            “Haven’t any of you played at this before?” Roy says, rolling his eyes. No answers. “Jesus Chris—okay.” He sighs. “ _Neeerds_.” He’s about to take another bottle, but Dick is faster; Roy grunts, but just crosses his arms and says, “When someone doesn’t want to kiss another person, he or she just drinks a shot and that’s it, the game continues. So—”

            Lilith gasps. “Are you telling me I could have avoided kissing Garth?”

            “Hey!” Garth protests. “What’s the matter with kissing me?”

            “You taste like fish,” Donna and Lilith say at the same time.

            Wally barks a laugh at the same time as Garth turns to Donna, “You haven’t even kissed me!”

            Donna just shrugs. Dick comes from the kitchen with a shot glass, and Wally wants to die a little bit more because that means that the game is still up. He can always take a shot instead of kissing Dick but… that would be too obvious, right? Because Dick’s his best friend—he’s not supposed to have a crush on his best friend!

            Dick kissed Roy, who didn’t complain. It could have been because he was too drunk at the time to complain, but still! Dick saying no to kissing Donna is because she’s like his sister. What would be Wally’s excuse? Also, this would be Wally’s first kiss—he doesn’t want his first kiss (with a boy) to be while playing _spin the bottle_ , he doesn’t care how pathetic that sounds.

            “Are you sure you can handle that, Boy Blunder?” Garth teases.

            Dick scoffs. “It sure will be better than kissing my _sister_.”

            “Ooh, man,” Roy says, curled up on the couch. “That hurt.”

            Dick looks at the drink in his glass and smirks. Then he looks at Wally, probably for the first time in the whole night, and winks. Wally thinks he might have died right there and right then. Because Dick wearing his pajamas—which consist of a red undershirt and grey sweatpants—and having messy hair winking at him right before downing a shot is something Wally thought he’d never see.

            The dream ends quickly anyway, because as soon as Dick gulps he starts coughing so violently he doubles over. Everyone except for Roy, who is already snoring, laughs so hard they have to double over too.

            “What is _this_?” Dick asks before he starts coughing again.

            When they stop laughing everyone is lying on a couch—except for Wally, who is on the floor because they don’t have enough couches—, the game obviously finished, and Wally can’t be happier. Because he’s only been kissed once tonight and now the possibility of kissing Dick is completely gone. And he knows that next time, when someone suggests playing spin the bottle, he has to get up and get the hell away from his friends.

            “I think this is the first time I’ve gotten drunk,” Dick mutters out of nowhere. He’s on the couch beside Wally, so Wally can perfectly see it when Dick rolls to one side; now one of his hands is dangerously close to Wally’s face.

            Donna snorts. “Really?”

            “I’ve drunk alcohol before, but I haven’t gotten drunk. Bruce would kill me.” Wally can practically hear the smile on Dick’s face. “Once I took a sip of champagne and Bruce almost broke his rule of no-killing.”

            Wally smiles at the memory, but the smile changes into a frown when he feels Dick’s hand on his forehead. It’s just his pinky probably, making circles over his skin, but it sends shivers down his spine and _help_. Dick’s said that he’s drunk and maybe he’s doing it unconsciously, but Wally’s only thought right now is: _!!!_

            “We’re such losers,” moans Lilith. “It’s not even midnight.”

            “It’s like three a.m.” Garth retorts.

            “I’m sure it’s half past two a.m.” adds Donna.

            “I bet you both,” Lilith says, covering herself with a blanket, “it’s not even midnight.”

            Wally is too occupied to concentrate on their bickering, because now it’s not only Dick’s pinky touching his forehead, but his _whole hand_ is _buried_ in his _hair_. He feels him running his fingers through his hair and it’s relaxing and it makes Wally feel sleepy but also antsy because _holy hell_ , Dick is running a hand through Wally’s hair.

            It’s also _confusing_. Because Wally and Dick have always been touchy, that’s no news to anyone, but it’s not often that Dick does this. But Dick’s also drunk, so… does this count as something? However, Wally can’t help but notice that while Roy is sleeping and the rest of the team is bickering, Dick and Wally are the only ones that aren’t talking.

            And it’s making him all bubbly inside and Wally knows that he shouldn’t get this excited because goddammit, it’s _Dick_. Dick, who’s dated Kori and Babs and Dick, who’s never going to like him back.

            Sighing, Wally gets to his feet and heads to the kitchen as Lilith, Garth, and Donna stop arguing to look at him in silence. “Wally—” Dick calls, but Wally pretends that he didn’t listen because now he’s just _sad_.

            When he’s in the kitchen he leans on the counter and sighs deeply. He drags a hand down his face and tries to think about something else, whatever. He should be enjoying this night with his friends and bickering about the time with the guys and he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about Dick. But it’s partly Dick’s fault, right? He’s the one that decided to start touching his hair. And Lilith was the one that suggested playing spin the bottle. And—

            “Who am I kidding,” he mumbles to himself. “This is so silly.”

            “What’s silly?” Dick asks, because he’s also decided to follow Wally into the kitchen, apparently.

            Wally shakes his head and pretends that he’s looking for a glass of water—because going to the kitchen all of a sudden to be alone would be super suspicious. And Dick’s a detective, no matter how much alcohol he’s had or how drunk he is.

            Dick’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and biting his lip when Wally turns to him again, a glass of water in one hand. It’s kind of cute, but Wally has to remind himself not to think about that. “So,” Dick says.

            “So…” Wally answers, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

            “I. Um. I’m sorry if that… bothered you.” Dick says, pointing to the living room. “Wasn’t my intention.”

            A full _minute_ passes before Wally realizes that Dick’s talking about the hair-touching. When it comes to him, he almost slaps himself—of course Dick noticed Wally was uncomfortable. Only for the wrong reasons. He gets to Dick’s side, bumps his shoulder against his.

            “It’s fine,” he says, smiling. Because it totally is, honestly.

            Dick just stares at Wally, and for a second, Wally could’ve sworn that he was looking at his lips. Probably his imagination. “You were just… there.”

            “I’m usually by your side,” Wally says. He meant it to sound funny, but it kind of sounded… flirty.

            Dick giggles. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

            Wally gasps loudly, pretending to be offended. He puts a hand over his heart and wipes an imaginary tear from his cheek. “I thought we were _best friends_.”

            “I’ve been trying to get away from you for _years_ , dude. You just won’t leave me alone for a _second_ ,” Dick retorts. Wally starts giggling too, and this time Dick bumps him. “Stop giggling.”

            “You first,” Wally says. And the next thing that he knows is that Dick’s lips are against his own.

            It happens so fast Wally doesn’t even have time to process what’s happening. One instant he’s laughing over Dick’s stupid joke and the next one they are kissing. It also takes him a minute to understand that it was _Dick_ the one who started it.

            Wally feels Dick’s hands over him, one on his waist and the other on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Wally doesn’t even close his eyes, so surprised he is, and he can perfectly see Dick’s little freckles over his nose, a fading scar just above his eyes. They just have their lips pressed together, but when they pull apart they are out of air.

            He’s been waiting for this moment for actual _years_ , but now that he’s kissed Dick, Wally doesn’t feel any different. There’s electricity running down his spine—like when he runs superfast, faster than Uncle Barry—and he feels like he isn’t touching the floor, but that’s it. He’s still Wally. And Dick—Dick, just in front of him, has his cheeks flushed and is smiling shyly.

            “Hey,” Dick says, biting his lips.

            “Hi,” Wally mumbles, biting his lips as well.

            And then it dawns on him—this was his _first kiss_ with a boy. And it was with _Dick Grayson_. Now Wally’s starting to feel the complete weight of the situation. He feels dizzy with emotion and he wants to say, _let’s do it again_ but he can barely stop himself from laughing. Because he’s been worried the whole night that he might have to kiss Dick and here they are.

            Dick catches Wally’s hand and smiles at him. And everything’s just so _perfect_.

            However, Wally isn’t sure it really happened, because Dick doesn’t mention it the next day and neither does Wally.


	2. Kindest, sweetest, most beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so sorry this chapter took this long! Anyway, tw: there's homophobia and child abuse in this, so please be careful <3

They aren’t on talking terms right now, and Wally hates it.

            He’s fought with Dick before. When they were around twelve years old Wally told Dick that he really, really liked pineapple and bananas on pizza and Dick got so angry that every time Wally tried to talk to him, Dick turned to Artemis and asked her, “What did he say? I can’t hear him.” He was like this for a _week_. A couple years later, when they were fifteen, Dick got drunk for the first time. Wally can’t get drunk, so he just went to the bar with Dick to take care of him, which was a big, big fail because Dick ended up puking all over Wally, who started gagging every time Dick tried to talk to him. When they were sixteen, they were on patrol, arguing about tomato being a fruit, and Dick got so into the argument he pushed Wally off the building, plunging him to his death. Wally ran back to the building and threw Dick off it, catching him at the last second.

            So they’ve fought before, but this time it looks worse than ever before. Two weeks ago Dick had _another_ fight with Bruce. As usual, he went to Wally to talk about it, but instead of agreeing with Dick, Wally was on Bruce’s side, which made Dick furious. He literally called Wally a _traitorous bitch_ and then stormed off and… that was the last Wally heard of him.

            He hasn’t seen Dick on patrol and apparently he’s ignoring his calls, because when he asked Artemis if she knew if something was wrong with Dick, she told him that nothing, that she’d just been on the phone with him a couple minutes ago.

            That angers Wally, a little bit. Because they are supposed to be best friends, and best friends don’t fight for this long. But Wally has tried texting him and calling him and leaving voicemails and hell, he even went to the Wayne Manor to ask for him, but Alfred told him that Dick wasn’t there. When he was leaving, Wally called Dick again, and he could’ve sworn that he heard his ringtone somewhere inside the house.

            Wally misses him. Because Dick’s the person closest to him, the one he goes to when he wants to vent, or the only person who laughs at his bad jokes or the only person that really, really cares about him. If he’s got a problem, he knows Dick is gonna be there, and if he wants to tell someone about a cute boy he met at school, he knows Dick is gonna be there too.

            It’s like he’s missing a limb, and it’s only been two weeks—if he’d known that Dick would get this mad because Wally picked Bruce’s side, he would have picked Dick’s side in a heartbeat. He dials his number, but after a moment staring at the screen, he shoves the phone into his pocket and keeps walking. Maybe he needs time. Maybe he’ll call Wally later to say that he misses him too. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

            Snowflakes fall on the tip of his nose from time to time, making him scrunch his nose because of the cold, but that makes him a little bit happier. He smiles at the memory of him, Donna, Dick, and Roy throwing snowballs at each other a couple years ago, when they were around thirteen—Dick threw a snowball at Donna, who muttered, “Oh, you just _didn’t_.” And so the fight began. Roy and Dick against Wally and Donna. Wally doesn’t know how, but he ended up sitting on Dick, trying to make him eat a snowball.

            He wishes they were still thirteen years old. Life wasn’t that easy back then, but now it’s even more difficult. Also, Wally didn’t have impossible crushes like now. And he didn’t fight with Dick for weeks.

            He sighs, and when he snaps back to reality, he’s already in front of his house. Even from here, with thunder sounding on the distance, he can hear his parents shouting at each other, probably for the same reason as always: Wally. They started fighting when they found out he was Kid Flash, and from then on it’s just got worse. Sometimes they fight because his mom thinks that Wally is too young, sometimes they fight because his dad thinks that he should do something else with his life.

            But tonight is different. When Wally comes in, they stop shouting and start whispering really low. Wally can’t hear them, and so he goes to the kitchen to grab something to eat because he’s famished. Running to Gotham and back it’s not precisely easy.

            “Wally?” his mom calls, and she sounds small. Like she doesn’t want him to be here.

            “I’m here,” he answers, munching some chips. He tries not to think about his mom’s voice while he opens the fridge to look for something with more calories, like a sandwich or maybe a chicken. But before he can even look inside, the fridge closes with a big _bam_! “Whoa!” Wally squeaks, taking a step back. He sees his father, and then he’s trying to process why he’s on the floor and his ear is ringing and his face burns.

            His mom and dad are shouting again, but he can’t understand what they are saying—his mom has her hands against her mouth, while his dad has his hands on the air, waving them around and pointing and Wally now and then. He feels dizzy, and when he touches his right cheek, it hurts like heck.

            “You saw the photo!” his dad shouts, angrier than Wally has even seen him before. His face is read and he’s spitting saliva everywhere, but he doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just doesn’t care. His mom is repeating ‘oh god’ over and over again. “It’s not photo-shopped, you saw it! He was kissing a _boy_!”

            His dad grunts, dragging his hands down his face. With a start, Wally realizes that he’s punched him. That’s why his ear is ringing and his face is burning—because his dad punched him. He moans, trying to get away from him, but his legs don’t seem to work, as if they were frozen. _Not now_ , Wally thinks, but it’s of no use.

            “Wally,” his mom mumbles. There’re tears streaming down her face, and Wally thinks that she’s gonna defend him, say something to his dad, but instead, she says, “Tell me it isn’t true. Please tell me it isn’t.”

            “Wha—I don’t understand,” he blurts out, cowering when his dad lifts his fist again. He looks more than ready to punch Wally again.

            “Wally,” he says, stoic, dead serious, “did you kiss a boy?”

            Wally stares at him, wide-eyed, and he knows that he should say something, that he should say _no_ , but now his mouth isn’t working either, and when he finally opens it and mumbles, “No,” it’s already too late. His mom starts crying harder and harder, and Wally realizes that it’s not because her husband punched her son—it’s because she can’t believe that her son likes boys.

            “Jesus Christ,” his dad mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face again. He goes to the living room to pick up his phone— _I could’ve run away_ , Wally thinks too late—and when he’s back, he shows Wally a picture of him kissing a boy with blond hair. “Is this you?” his dad asks. When Wally doesn’t answer, he kicks him on the shin and asks again, “Is this you?”

            “I can explain,” Wally says, panicking. His leg hurts, his face hurts, and he thinks he’s going to be sick. He could run out of there, be out of there before his parents realize what’s going on. He can get out of here. He’s _Kid Flash_. But it’s like his legs don’t belong to him anymore. “Dad, please—”

            “This can’t be happening,” his mom keeps saying.

            “What about this?” his dad says, showing him another picture of him, still kissing the blond boy. And Wally remembers this day—it was a couple months ago, when he befriended a new kid from school. They got along really well; they went to the movies and they went to eat something a few times and one of those times he kissed Wally, his second kiss. They are just friends. They aren’t dating. How did this father get these photos? Who even took them? “I’m so disappointed, Wally.”

            “I didn’t do nothing,” he says through gritted teeth. His dad grunts louder this time, shaking his head.

            “We didn’t raise you like this,” his mom says, shaking her head too. His dad grabs his hand and pushes Wally to the stairs, up to his room, and once Wally’s inside, he closes the door. Wally hears the _click_ of the lock, and then he hears his mom saying, “What are we going to _do_?”

            And then his father says, “He can’t live here anymore. I’m not going to allow that. I am _not_.” 

            As if he had a contagious disease. As if he was sick. Because he kissed a boy and someone was there to take a pic. Wally stands in the middle of his room, trying to process what’s happened, because he can’t quite believe it. He carefully touches his cheek, expecting it to be normal again, but it still burns—he’s a speedster, he’s supposed to heal faster. _Not that fast_ , he thinks sourly. He should put some ice. But he doesn’t have any ice.

            He feels numb. He should be crying, sobbing, but he’s not even batting an eye. His face hurts. He can’t run. His dad doesn’t want him here. He should be devastated, but he just feels… nothing.

            His phone beeps. Wally had forgotten that he still has it, and he’s grateful that it didn’t beep while he was with his parents because he’s sure that they would’ve taken it away from him. He fishes it from his pocket, and he’s almost surprised to see that it’s a message from Dick. _Call me maybe?_ Wally reads.

            And he barks a laugh, because he remembers that in the _Call me maybe_ video clip the guy the girl is crushing on ends up to be gay. And he laughs for about five seconds before that laugh becomes a fit of coughs and then Wally is sobbing. _More like it_ , he thinks, but that only makes him sob harder.

            His legs buckle under his weigh, and he crumbles to the floor. He hugs his knees, buries his head between his legs and tries to keep calm, to stop sobbing, but he just can’t. And right now Wally remembers Batman talking with the team, saying that when they find a victim, two things can happen. One, they are in shock: this means they don’t react to almost anything; they don’t cry or scream or bawl, they just are there, numb—shock can last for days or just minutes. Two, they aren’t in shock anymore: this means they are anxious, hysterical, angry, afraid… the victim has realized what’s happened to them.

            He was in shock, Wally realizes with a start. He doesn’t want to believe it, because that means that he just lived a traumatic event, and he doesn’t want that to be true because that would make what just happened even more real.

            Bruce’s voice resonates in his ears, “ _You_ can also go into shock. If you think you are in shock, if you ever need to talk about _anything_ , there’s a team of professionals willing to hear you and help you. If you don’t think you’re ready to talk with any of us, at least talk with any of your teammates, please.”

            Wally wipes the tears off his cheeks when his phone beeps again. It’s Dick again. _I know I’ve been a dick, but please can I call you?_ Without thinking about it twice, Wally dials Dick’s number and presses the call button. Dick picks up at the first ring.

            “Hey, Wally,” he says, and he sounds relieved. “Can we meet? I wanna invite you to some fries and a milkshake because I think you deserve it.”

            If he weren’t so… sad? Anxious? Wally would be surprised at Dick’s words, because Dick isn’t the one to back away from a fight like this. Usually, it is Wally the one who invites him to fries and a milkshake. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead of words, a sob comes out from the back of his throat.

            “Wally,” Dick says, more serious. He sounds just like Bruce. “Where are you?”

            It’s a question, but it sounds more like a demand. If Wally doesn’t respond, Dick’s gonna punch his way to the answer. “Home,” he mumbles, though this doesn’t feel like his home anymore. He sniffs, and then blurts out, “My parents found out, Dick.” Dick doesn’t say anything, so Wally adds, “They found out I’m gay.”

            Dick doesn’t say anything, but Wally hears some crashing and then a _thump_ and Dick grunts and then, “Fuck—shit,” but Wally doesn’t think he’s talking to him. Finally, he asks, “Are you okay? Did they do something to you?”

            Wally bites his lip, wiping more tears from his face. He wants to tell Dick what happened, but what’s he going to say? They fight crime almost every night—they get punched and stabbed and shot and people _die_. Wally even has super speed, but he can’t avoid getting punched by his _dad_? It sounds pathetic. So what’s Dick gonna say? Jason Todd died just a few months ago because the freaking Joker blew him up, and Wally cries because he got punched? He can live with Aunt Iris. He’s got friends. He’s got family. This is nothing.

            “Wally?” Dick presses.

            “Nothing,” he says quickly, biting his lip so hard he draws blood. He feels tears prickle in his eyes and his ear is still ringing, though not so loud and he just wants to… what? Just yesterday his mom was making him lasagna because he saved some people. Today she's crying because he’s gay.

            Dick sighs. He hears a _crash_. “Wally, you know you can tell me,” he mumbles.

            “What are you even _doing_?” he asks instead of answering. “What’s all that noise?”

            “Bruce is trying to cook,” Dick answers, snorting. “Alfred is doing some secret business in the UK—B wouldn’t tell me what’s all about, so I can just guess.”

            “I bet he’s interrogating someone right now,” Wally says, glad that they aren’t talking about him anymore. He’d rather talk about anything else but him.

            Dick laughs. “With his rifle,” he says. “ _Pow-pow-pow, motherfucker_.”

            Wally rolls his eyes. “You’re swearing a lot nowadays, you know.”

            “The chicks dig it,” he says nonchalantly.

            “Are you always such an idiot, or do you just show off when we’re talking?”

            “Ooh, it is _on_ , West.”

            “Hey, you threw me off a building. Let me have this.”

            They both laugh, but Wally hears the voices of his parents louder and louder, so that means they are approaching. And Wally doesn’t think they’d be too happy if they found out that he’s got a phone, so he shoves it in his pocket, puts his hands over his ears and closes his eyes. He imagines that he is on the beach, with Artemis and Conner and M’gann and Dick, playing volleyball. He imagines that he’s at Roy’s apartment, drinking soda—because Roy doesn’t drink anymore and Wally has never drunk—and Roy talks about Jason Todd, how big his crush on him was, and then Wally talks about kissing the blond boy, how weird but good it was. He imagines going on patrol with Dick, sitting on a gargoyle and telling bad jokes.

            He remembers a year ago when Dick was drunk and they kissed. He imagines that they talked about it, that it mattered, that it meant something. He imagines kissing Dick every day whenever he wants to just _because_ he wants to.

            When he opens his eyes again there’s not a sound, just the thunder from the storm. Wally sees lightning from his window and oh boy, how he wishes he could be out right now, raindrops against his face and snow behind his feet and the wind blowing his hair.

            He picks up the phone again, expecting the call to have ended, but it hasn’t. When he puts the phone against his ear, he hears Dick huffing and breathing heavily. “Dick? Hey? Are you okay? Dick?”

            Wally starts worrying at his lip again, afraid that something’s happened, because he’s not an idiot and he perfectly knows that Dick’s wasn’t home. Bruce’s not a good cook, but he’s not that bad. “Dick!” he says, not too loud because he doesn’t want his parents to hear, but not so low either.

            “Wally?” Dick shouts, hyperventilating. “Are you okay?”

            “I’m here,” he says, sighing. “Where are you? Are _you_ okay?”

            “Jesus Christ,” Dick says, and Wally can imagine him in Gotham, surrounded by lights and sounds and people. “Fuck, Wally, don’t do that again.”

            “What?”

            “You stopped talking and I thought—I thought something happened and—shit, just don’t do that again.”

            “I’m fine,” he mumbles, dumbfounded. “Sorry.”

            Dick grunts. “Don’t apologize. I was—I was just worried, you don’t need to apologize, please.”

            Wally presses his lips together, tears pooling in his eyes again. He’s such an idiot. He feels like an idiot. And he doesn’t even know _why_. “Dick,” he whispers, pressing a hand against his forehead.

            “Yes?” Dick whispers too, soft and calm, voice even.

            “What am I going to do?” he asks, voice breaking. “Dad doesn’t want me here anymore. Neither does mom. What am I supposed to do? There’s nothing wrong with me. This isn’t fair.”

            He’s hyperventilating by the time he finishes talking, and Wally has to cover his mouth with his hands because if he doesn’t, his parents are going to come in. And if they come in and they take his phone away, Wally doesn’t know what he’s going to do, because Dick’s the only thing that’s keeping him afloat right now. He doesn’t want to imagine what’d happen if Dick went away too.

            “Wally,” Dick starts, sighing, “there’s nothing wrong with you. There’s _absolutely_ nothing wrong with you—you’re the kindest, sweetest, most beautiful person I know, and I know a _lot_ of people.” He chuckles halfheartedly. “Your parents are wrong. They are the ones that have something broken, they don’t deserve someone like you. Listen to me,” he says, “You are just _perfect_.”

            Tears are scrolling down his cheeks again, and Wally doesn’t even know what to say. He hears Dick breathing, the thunderstorm raging outside, his own sobs. He closes his eyes and opens them again just as Dick says, “You can come live with me. Or with your aunt Iris and Barry. You are _not_ alone, Wally.”

            “Stop it,” he murmurs, half-laughing half-crying. “You’re making me cry.”

            “That’s what I’m good at, apparently.”

            Wally chuckles. How could he _not_ have a crush on him? Because it’s not only his good looks and his easy smile and his bright eyes, it’s his personality. It’s times like this when Wally realizes once again how much he loves Dick, not only as a friend but as something else. He likes the way he makes Wally smile even when he feels like shit and the way he makes Wally cry, but not in a bad way, and he likes that no matter how bad a fight is or how angry they are, they always come back to the other. Like magnets, they can’t be separated for long. And he doesn’t even care that Dick doesn’t like him that way, he doesn’t really care, just being his friend is more than enough.     

            “Wally,” Dick says, coughing. “Can you do me a favor?”           

            “Yeah. Of course. What is it?”

            “Open your window.”

            “What?”

            “I said, open your window. Pretty please.”

            “Wha— _Dick_.”

            “Mmm?”

            “Oh my god,” Wally mutters, getting to his feet. He walks to the window, and when he opens it—leaves and raindrops and wind clashing against his face—he squints his eyes and sees Dick down there, in a blue hoodie and with his phone against his ear. Wally can’t hear him over the sound of the thunder, but he can swear that Dick’s laughing. “You crazy moron,” he says through his phone.

            Dick is, indeed, laughing. “Come here,” he says, and then he ends the call.

            Wally doesn’t think twice before he starts climbing down the window. He hadn’t realized how strong the storm was, and he almost falls off before he gets to the floor. But when he does get there, Dick embraces him in the warmest hug he’s ever received. Wally hides his face in the crook of Dick’s neck, and he can hear his heart beating faster and faster and before he knows it, he’s crying again.

            But this time they are happy tears, mostly, because he can’t believe Dick’s here. And he knows there are zeta tubes and he knows it’s quite easy to get here, but Dick’s here. Right now, with the strongest thunderstorm in years and he’s still _here_.

            “Bruce cooking, my ass,” he mutters, barking a laugh. His face still hurts, but a little less. Maybe because he’s healing already, maybe because Dick’s by his side.

            When they pull apart, Dick flashes him a smile. His hair and his clothes are soaking wet and he’s going to catch a cold for sure. The smile, however, disappears when he notices Wally’s cheek. “This is a bruise,” he says, as if he’d never seen a bruise in his life.

            Wally thinks that he’s going to be sick, as soon as he hears it. A _bruise_. He didn’t think his dad punched him hard enough for a _bruise_. Dick frowns, like he’s realizing for the first time that this is real, that Wally wasn’t kidding at all. Like he didn’t believe it was possible that his dad, the man that had greeted him so many times, had really punched him.

            And Wally can’t blame him, because he didn’t think this was possible either.

            He catches Dick’s hands in his own and forces himself to smile. “I’m fine—”

            “I’m sorry,” Dick blurts out, wide-eyed. “I’m so sorry. I should—I should’ve been here or I—I should’ve _realized_ , I—”

            “This isn’t your fault,” Wally says. He forces himself to say this: “This isn’t my fault either.”

            Dick squeezes his hand. “Come to the manor tonight. Please, don’t stay here.”

            Wally nods, and so they start walking, holding hands, in the middle of a thunderstorm. And Wally can’t stop thinking about Dick’s hand, trapped in his, and how good this feels. It feels normal and okay and this isn’t unnatural at all, this is just life. Even though they are just friends, even though they aren’t anything more, this _isn’t_ bad.

            But suddenly Dick stops, in front of a lighted lamppost, and Wally worries that something’s bad, that the storm is just too much for him, but when he looks at Dick he’s smiling, eyes mischievous. He opens his mouth and says something, but a thunder booms and Wally can’t hear him.

            “What?” he shouts, leaning on him, getting closer.

            Dick bites his lower lip for a second, then shouts back, “I’m glad you’re okay!”

            Wally’s sure he’s blushing, so he’s grateful that it’s dark and Dick probably can’t see him. He shrugs, biting his lips as well. He’s about to take another step when Dick grabs him by the shirt and pulls him closer and closer and Wally isn’t biting his lips anymore because he’s kissing Dick instead.

            There’s a hand buried in his messy hair and another one in his hip and Wally feels breathless, but he doesn’t break apart. _Someone might take a photo_ , his brain is screaming, but Wally couldn’t care less. Dick slips his tongue into Wally’s mouth and Wally thinks that he’s about to explode.

            This is a hungrier kiss than the first one they shared, a needy kiss. Wally feels like laughing when he realizes that they are in the middle of the street, in the middle of a storm, and that he’s kissing _Dick Grayson_ for the _second_ time in his life.

            And he feels _good_. He feels so good that he might combust. How can something that feels so _right_ be wrong? His parents have no idea what they’re talking about. They don’t know what they are talking about, and Wally doesn’t think they ever will.

            When they break apart Dick laughs, catching his breath, and he repeats, “God, am I glad you’re okay.”

            They don’t talk about this kiss either, but at least Wally can remember this day as the day Dick Grayson kissed him again, not as the day his parents kicked him out of his own house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope the wait was worth it and that you liked this!!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!!! Leave me a comment telling me what you thought about it <3


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